It Really Sinks in, You Know
by Kolbie Ru-Ru
Summary: (When I See it in Stone) Every time he failed to save him (and the one time he didn't have to) AU. Death. Rin/Shima.


Summary: Every time he couldn't save him (and the one time he didn't have to)

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They are strangers.

Of course, they've seen one another, occasionally, during the serene, eerie quiet of the not quite morning as they pass through the stop, the rare times their schedules coincile; they've even exchanged words. _("Do you have the time?" "Yeah, it's a quarter 'till five." "Thanks.")_

They can hardly be called friends, and yet...

A red car driven by a man clearly under the influence speeds down the usually docile street, the pink-haired man none the wiser as he steps out onto the crosswalk.

_He_ notices and reaches (but it's too far), goes to call out to him only to realize he doesn't know _what_ to call out, and the moment of indecision costs him as the car hits.

He doesn't know he's running until he's done so, dropping to his knees beside the bloody mess of a person, and feels nothing but guiltguiltguilt.

Hazel eyes, unfocused, now, but he knows they used to be so sharp, stare blankly at the sky before finding his own, and it takes everything in him to not flinch away from that gaze (because it's fading.)

It takes him a moment (that he doesn't have) to identify the emotions in the pools of honey, but when he does, he is still just as uncomprehending.

Surely the man who could have _(should have)_ saved him doesn't _(won't ever)_ deserve the warmth and reassurance he feels from this man _(he failed.)_

Sensing his disbelief, maybe, the dying man then (attempts to) smile at him, and he thinks the lump in his throat might just embed itself forever.

"...Th..ank...y...ou..."

His last breath ghosts out onto his face, and his heart almost stops beating in time, but it's not that easy.

It's never that easy.

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They are best friends.

They've known each other since they were born, having been neighbors throughout seventeen years of existence, and they tell each other everything. _("She's... She's _pregnant_!" "Calm down!" "What do you mean 'calm down'?" "Don't freak out. You're just gonna make it worse, idiot." "...Okay. You're right..." "Che. I'm _always _right.")_

They are inseparable, and still...

It's the shady part of the city, sure, but they know it like the backs of their hands; they've never had trouble getting home this way.

The man waving a gun around changes things.

They don't have anything valuable, really, because they're high school kids only just getting by in the big city. The mugger cannot know that, and explaining only makes him more frantic and wild-eyed.

His pink-haired friend is attempting to smile disarmingly and talk the criminal down from the weapon, and it seems to be working.

Police sirens blare in the distance, however, and everything goes to shit.

He fires twice. One bullet, the one meant for him, clangs harmlessly on a fence in the distance. His friend is not so lucky.

As the mugger _(murderer)_ flees the scene _(corpse)_, he gasps and panics at the blood flowing unhindered through pale fingers (because it's supposed to be on the _inside_.)

His friend's face is set in a grim smile as he looks to him. "I guess... ugh... that you'll... ngh.. have to... have to-" He takes a moment to cough up even more blood. "Tell her... I really am... heh... a dead... beat.." He chuckles a bit to himself as he finishes.

_He _cannot find the strength to do so, can only gape at his steadily dimming eyes and paling palor, can only wonder, briefly, why his friend can manage to find humor in such a devastating situation.

_(It should be me.)_

The shame and grief overtake him, and he finds himself on his knees.

His friend catches this and immediately sets to right it (but _nothing_ is right, won't ever be, not anymore.)

"Don't... blame... yourself."

His lungs are failing him just as his friend's will surely be in a moment.

"Please... _please_... It's not..."

He's already shaking his head, and the boy (because he _is_, he's oh, so _young_) changes tactics.

"Thanks... for... being my... _friend_."

He quickly looks up from his denial and finds a staggering amount of gratitude and the fierceness his friend is known for.

Before he can refute it, before he can give his own thanks, he blinks.

And the fire has finally been snuffed out.

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They are doctor and patient.

They've only known each other in the few months he has been employed at the hospital the other man has never left; though supposedly strictly professional, they cannot contain silly banter every now and then. _("You know, I think you enjoy sticking things into me." "Wha-what?!" "Hahaha, oh, your _face_!" "Hmph! I guess you _don't_ want the box of chocolate-covered doughnuts I brought just for you. Silly me." "Hey, wait! I'm sorry! Please give me the chocolate-y goodness, O lord of all things that are great!" "That's more like it.")_

They don't expect much, but...

They're on the brink of a cure, and they don't dare to hope, but it's looking good for a while.

The incessant beeping picks up pace at an alarming rate one lazy Summer afternoon, and it's all the harried nurses can do not to distress.

The estimated timeframe of the end of the year has led them to be complacent, and they don't think their hearts can take it if the sunny, ever-smiling, pink-haired boy abandons them now.

_He_ is awakened from his slumber (it's his day off, after all) and rushes to the hospital only a few blocks (_but it might as well be two worlds) _away.

He doesn't hold false hope _(never mind the chanting of "He's alright" at the back of his mind)_ because whatever training he goes through, however much time he spends learning, he'll never, ever be certain, not in this profession, and he's not (lieliele) surprised to come upon a lifeless (_but that's wrong because he was so _full_ of life)_ body and dead cerulean eyes _(that would always sparkle with mirth and michief when directed at him.) _

He _is_ surprised to find a distinct wetness on his cheeks, but he shrugs it off in favor of approaching the bo(d)y and closing his eyes.

Many lives perish before him in his line of work; it doesn't ever get any easier.

But they never crush his heart and devour his soul like the first one.

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They are brothers.

They're six years apart, and the younger idolizes his older sibling, attempts to mimic his every move; the thirteen year old looks down adoringly at the younger boy as he prattles on about everything and nothing. _(" ...And the dinosaur went 'KAPOW', and the robot was all 'WHOOSH', and then, and then..." "Yes? What happened next?" "Hee, a HUGE WHALE came out of the water and went 'KSHHHH", and then...") _

They are impossibly close, yet...

_**"Breaking News: The body of a missing child has been found in the local river. Authorities have revealed that it was, in fact, a murder, and all evidence points to the next door neighbor, who actually has a history of drug abuse and-" **_

He finds the gun he knows his father keeps hidden in the top left dresser drawer and doesn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

He joins his brother on the news and sleeps beside him under a block of stone.

_(It is the only time he ever takes his own life in this never-ending cycle.)_

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They are lovers.

They met at the wedding of a friend of a friend and have been together ever since; five years together yields no secrets between the two and no bad blood. _("I love you." "I love you, too.")_

They spend ten, twenty, thirty wonderful years together before his pink-haired husband _(soulmate) _dies of old age.

He wastes no time mourning and waits patiently to join him.

There is no regret this time around.

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_(They will always, always find each other again.) _


End file.
